Morse Coffin Newspaper Articles, 1907

Articles written by Morse H. Coffin, son of Jacob and Mary Ann (Hull) Coffin
Thanks to Joe C., an RAOGK (Random Acts of Genealogical Kindness) researcher, for sending the articles.

In 1845 my parents moved, via Erie Canal and lakes to a wild prairie farm some four miles south of Belvidere, Boone County, Ill., where I grew to manhood. I generally went to the district school during winter and helped on the farm at all other times. A strong taste for reading tended to supplement a lack of better education.

May 5, 1859, when 22 years of age I started in company with R. S. Low and James G. Robinson for Pike's Peak. We had three yoke of oxen and in Iowa we added a cow, which was led behind the wagon. In Iowa we met the return flood of pilgrims who had started in March and April and plodded through terrible mud. Some of these stampeders had only been to Council Bluffs, others as far as Fort Kearney, while a few had been as far as Cherry Creek as Denver was at that time more commonly spoken of. These latter ones having been so far, were presumed and claimed to know just about the whole thing, though in fact they generally had remained only a day or so, or had not gone into the mountains at all. To illustrate the backward rush, I will just mention that when we reached the bridge over the Des Moines River at Des Moines, about 1:30 p.m. of the day we had met and counted 160 odd teams or rigs. Some of these parties we knew, being from our town or neighborhood. Along the road occurred many interesting and laughable scenes among those returning and others going on, dividing up and reforming companies, etc.

At Council Bluffs and Omaha, the latter a very insignificant little burg, we outfitted for California or Oregon, as the bottom seemed to have dropped out of Pike's Peak. We purchased some literature on Oregon, its early settlement, etc., with the view of making up our minds before reaching the turning off place as to which state we would cast our lot. Our route was up the north side of the North Platte River to Fort Laramie where we arrived July 4th, two days after Horace Greeley had passed on the overland stage on his way to California after his visit to the Gregory diggings at Black Hawk and Central. Greeley had made a talk to the crowd of Pilgrims gathered there as this was a big camp at the time. What we heard of Greeley's sayings - though far from being bright - decided us to come south to this country.

The big pilgrim camp was a few miles, three or four, below the fort on the north side of the Platte river, and here some parties had improvised a cheap ferry out of cottonwood dugouts. Our crowd with whom we had been traveling up the Platte divided here, some going on to California or Oregon and others of us, three or four wagons as I remember, ferried our wagons over and drove our teams across by making them swim, as the river was high and had been all the way up. We made our start from here July 6, just one month from Omaha.

At a German settlement a little below Fort Kearney we had purchased another yoke of oxen, making us four yoke, so should we lose one yoke we would have enough to haul our wagon. We got on the lower or Santa Fe trail instead of upper road up the chugwater as intended. Second day out we met a lone wagon and three men coming back who had found themselves on the road alone, but they fell in with us and came on to Boulder City.

At one camp we found no water and had to dig for it, then dip it up for all the stock - no small job. At another camp we found no water but wet sand, in the bed of Little Creek, and by going upstream a little way found plenty. In another fine little valley where we proposed to stop by a fine little stream, we saw some half dozen dead cattle and notices warning us not to camp and to beware of poison weed. So we watered our stock in the creek, filled water kegs at a fine spring near the road, and drove on for a mile, thankful for the warning posted by brother pilgrims.

We followed down Crow Creek and crossed Cache-la-Poudre near its mouth: ditto Thompson Creek and so on up St. Vrain to Boulder Creek to our camp on banks of the latter just west of Buttes, now Valmont, July 18. As I remember from Cache-la-Poudre or Thompson Creek we had but a lone wagon track to follow over the bluffs.

We passed a large Indian village on the flat between the buttes and where the White Rock grist mill later stood. The next day, July 19, a squad of us took blankets, picks, and shovels on our backs and tramped into Left Hand Canyon on a prospecting trip. It is yet laughable to recall this little jaunt. Back in camp at nightfall.

Friday, July 19, 1907

A day or so later a larger party of us took heavy packs and walked to Gold Hill and Gold Run Gulch, the latter just south of the present town of Gold Hill. Gold Run Gulch was then a very lively little placer mining camp where gold was being separated from sand, gravel, and dirt by means of hand rockers, as there was only a limited supply of water.

At this time Boulder City was composed of, as I recall it, some forty-odd log cabins or partial cabins, in various stages of completion, from foundations to a roof of shakes - split shingles some three feet long and fastened with poles or small house logs laid on them and fastened in place. Most any pioneer in any portion of the U.S. knows what shakes are.

I understood at the time that the Town Company was composed of some 46 shares and that each owner of a share had to build a house on his portion within a given time. This accounts for so many being started so early in its history. Changes occurred in town company and I am sure a majority of these cabins were never completed on townsite. Many of them - that is the logs - were hauled out on land claims around the country. A year or so later there were fewer houses in town than when we first saw it, though far better ones were in the meantime being built and completed. If any mistakes are made by me as to the early history of Boulder, M. L. McCaslin or John Rothroch can make connection, as they were here in 1858, and more than likely the latter was a member of the original town company. Among the very oldest Boulderites were Captain Thomas Akins and A. A. Brookfield, (I think Mrs. Brookfield is still living in Boulder) as they came here in 1858 and wintered here.

There was so much dividing up of companies and selling off of teams, wagons, and supplies, and so little money in circulation that everything was ruinously cheap, even though all realized the fact that grub would be at a premium before fresh pilgrims arrived the next spring.

When the division of our own company was made I found myself in debt to Mr. Low some $75 or $80, as I had only about $40 in cash besides my gun, revolver, and clothes, when we started and I stood my one-third of losses. C. J. Goss, Wm G. Pell, and R. S. Low of our plains crowd formed a partnership at Boulder and bought out some party or parties in the town company. To repay Mr. Low I hired to him, or the firm, also engaged two others of the boys, Tracey and Robinson, all to work until next spring at $30 a month. But after a month or two the firm discovered they had gapped too wide and it developed as being quite impossible for them to keep us all employed in remunerative work, even for summer and fall, saying nothing about winter. So we made other terms and let them off from their hard bargain.

While working for this firm I had learned to whip-saw lumber by working with a French-Canadian named Fields. Our first job was for some French boys on Four Mile Creek, above Boulder. They used the lumber for sluice mining and paid the company 14 cents per foot for it and boarded us while we were doing the job. As I recall it these boys made fine raised bread and delicious soup. While at that work I slept in the open air with a single blanket and my boots for a pillow. But the weather was warm.

Our next job was high up on the road to Gold Hill, and as the old Frenchman's bellows did not work very well in the light air (he having a touch of asthma) we broke in Jim Robinson and Jim and I ran the business thereafter.

After we ceased work for the firm Jim Robinson and I bought the whip-saw of Mr. Fields and sawed lumber for him to pay for same. We did work in many localities near by and at such prices as we could get, with the idea of making grub for winter.

In October of this year came the little raid of the Ute Indians in Gold Run Gulch and as I was up there just then I was one of the 35 men who took the trail to catch them. But the "Lo" fellows made their "getaway" all right and we never saw an Indian, just their work. But as I detailed this trip a year or so ago, I will merely add that so far as I know Alf. and Wash. Cushman are the only others now living who were in that "tenderfoot" jaunt. There may be others living who were with us, but as we were mostly strangers, met in a hurry and had no means of acquaintance.

In November we moved our quarters to a vacant cabin out a couple miles south of town, in a little valley close under the hills, where we found good saw timber not far away. While in this place, in November or December, we had quite a deep snow and some bitter cold weather, and as we had to carry our wood on our backs quite a distance in order to keep warm, had no soft snap by any means.

Friday, July 26, 1907

The chimney to this cabin was about five feet across and the same in height, laid up of loose stones, dry, and so let in some cold; no chinking or plaster, and no door only as we fixed up boards. We turned one cold side to the fire pretty often. At this time we were building a cabin of our own a half mile or so further up, on a spur of mountain by an immense rock as big as our cabin, and near a supply of water in the gulch. We tried to chop during these cold days but our fingers would tingle in a minute in contact with ox handles and we had to quit as we were not provided with the luxury of either mittens or gloves. We understood it was 35 or 40 degrees below zero.

Up to this time my last letter from home was received at Fort Laramie July 6th, and the next was late in November or in December. Papers included copies of the New York Tribune. That was the first we heard of the John Brown raid on Harper's Ferry and we had plenty to talk about for a while, Jim being a Democrat and I a Republican. For a time letter received cost us fifty cents each; regular postage brought them to the Missouri river, and 25 cents each from there to Denver by overland coach, and another 25 cents from Denver. This latter was soon cut down to 15 cents and later to 10 cents.

During the cold snap in the open cabin we slept in all our clothes except boots and had also, a wagon cover to help out in bedding.

During fall and winter we sawed lumber for fifteen or more parties, some of whom have since been prominent citizens of Boulder such as D. W. Walling, Wm. Pell, H. C. Norton, Wellman Bros., A. A. Brookfield, H. B. Butler, Geo. F. Chase, Marine Smith, Ed Donnely, Gates and Dayton and several others. It was well for Jim and myself that people were becoming so particular and clean as to want board instead of dirt floors for their cabins. We were glad to supply them at $6 per hundred feet, just decent wages for very laborious work.

During the latter part of winter and after our shack was finished and occupied, Geo. F. Chase (now Deacon Chase of Boulder) and his partner H. P. Butler, with Abe Cronk, occupied it jointly with us while cutting fence poles near there. During the long evenings we passed quite a portion of the time at spelling as, among my few books I had included an elementary spelling book. Our shack was a primitive one and very small but room enough for company. We five laid crosswise in the bunk and fixed up a board on which to rest our feet. But we enjoyed it all just the same.

One morning soon after Abe had gone to his work away up in the woods alone, and Jim and I had gone across the canyon to our sawmill, we heard Abe hallooing very loud, but with such an echo to his voice that we could not make out his words. Later we learned that he had encountered a small pack of large grey wolves. At first he kept out of sight and watched their maneuvers, but finally showed himself, expecting them to run off, but instead they showed no disposition to do so, but hung around and snapped their jaws and snarled as though they might try to make a breakfast of him. Then he deemed it time to become scared and yelled for us to come with the rifle we always took with us when we left the cabin for either work or play. This was a great place for both coyotes and grey wolves and we had concerts nearly every night, especially in cold weather.

The latter part of the winter - that is early in 1860 - we contracted to saw 2000 feet of lumber for H. C. Norton for a house on his ranch about a mile south by southeast of where the University now is. Before this job was finished we run short of grub and for the last week or more we had not a thing but bread to eat. We could work on it all right but there was very little enjoyment in eating. We were in a hurry to close the contract, as lumber was needed and we had no time to spare to hunt game. In all we sawed for Norton 2,850 feet and for pay took a yoke of oxen, two or three town lots, a few pounds of salt pork and flour, the latter 20 cents a pound. I think this is as much as we ever paid for flour.

This house of Norton's was safely The first frame building in the county. In all, during fall, winter, and until March 15th we had sawed 8,150 feet of lumber and for same had received $392.85 in gold dust or its equivalent. I had become attached to the little cabin and left it with some regret, but we had eaten the last of our grub - even the last bean and last pinch of salt. Our last meal was beans and meat (no bread) and we must scatter.

March 18th Jim went to work for Wellman Bros. for $15 per month, while I took my blanket and walked to Left Hand Creek, at north foot of Gold Hill, and found work with T. J. Graham, who was building a water power stamp mill there. I was to have $1 a day after mill was running and grub, but the grub was what I was after. Plenty of hard work but a happy time among a good lot of fellows. The wheel for this mill was 40 feet in diameter, though it was but a three stamp mill. On visiting the place in June when it had been running for a month or so, Graham promptly weighed out the dust for my work.

About April 25 Freeman Belcher came there from Boulder to see me and propose we go down the valley and take up ranches. This we proceeded to do. April 26th Belcher, a man named King and myself took out blankets and rifles on our backs and started down the valley from Boulder. At the junction of Boulder and St. Vrain creeks we shot a prairie chicken and cooked it to eat with our bread and slept there. Next day we traveled on to St. Vrain's old fort and found Mart. Broughton, Jim Boutwell, and Alf. Cushman, all of whom we knew, building a toll bridge over the Platte just above the mouth of the St. Vrain. At this time a man named Graham and family were living close by the remains of the old fort. This man Graham had been appointed or elected by some of the people the year before as a sort of delegate to Washington, representing this "Territory of Jefferson" as it was then called; and he told of the cordial greeting Stephen A. Douglas gave him.

Friday, August 2, 1907

Another man was keeping a store or trading house close by. There was talk of a town being boomed there then. Plenty of Indians camped all around thereabouts. We slept two nights on a jaunt, and at noon on the 28th, we ate lunch where we made our claims and where we (self and family) yet live. We thought there was a choice in land so we drew cuts for choice and first fell to me and second to Belcher. King went on over the range somewhere and never returned to improve his claim. A month or so later brother George came and he took the claim made by King. Geo. and I formed a close partnership which continued until 1866 when I found another partner to whom I was more closely attached. We had a yoke of oxen but no wagon and no money. Belcher had a few dollars in dust so hired a wagon of Marine Smith. On May 3 we brought a load of logs to our claims and began a cabin.

The valley down here was nearly a paradise then, only painfully quiet. Droves of antelopes on the bluffs or plenty of red deer among the willows along the creek. Either the first or second forenoon on the claim a large herd of elk came down the valley chased by a single mounted Indian. We were too far away for a shot, tho' Free was nearer than me, but he thought of them ponies first. I stayed on the claim alone while Free returned for another load, a three days trip. Besides killing a deer and an antelope and drying some of the meat, I busied myself with a pick ax among the willows in a bend of the creek making a small garden, as we had a few seeds sent from home. Many little matters during the next few months was of interest to us and might be to many others, but to relate them all would spin my story out to long.

At this time there was a cabin some four or five miles below, but no one lived there except now and then for a few days, as Scott lived mostly at Golden City. Soon thereafter came the Smith boys, Perry and Mike (now a part of the Bacon Farm), John Mott, John Muavikill and A. M. Cornell, but it was some time before we had permanent neighbors down that way. But at the time of our settlement or very soon thereafter most of Boulder Co. was claimed, and among the earliest of them and best known then or since in the lower portion of the valley, and this is all I am including in this story, was S. J. Plumb, T. F. Godding, Dennis Daily, Robt. Hauck and Casbin family; their claim now a part of R. N. Smith's farm, and many others a little later.

At this time A. N. Allen was finishing up his fine heaved log house at the mouth of Left Hand Creek and Will Dickens came to him near this time and thankful we all are that he is here yet.

But soon Mr. Allen again moved his house (he first erected it, or partly so, on south Boulder Creek, and it was thence to mouth of Left Hand that he staked out his celebrated gun-barrel road over Gun-barrel Hill) to its present location just south of St. Vrain bridge and west of the road. It is there boarded in, and I guess unoccupied. But these old logs and this whole house has a history.

July 19th, 1860 I took my blankets and walked to Left Hand Canyon, just a year after my first trip there, where R. S. Low, Jonas Anderson and my brother George were trying to build a saw mill. I helped here for some time, and a man named Chaffee helped me whip saw some lumber for them. At this time Rufus Rice did the cooking for the crowd (and he is here yet) and later he got sick but a lot of Dr. Powell's blue mass and rhubarb with some heroic treatment by Geo. Coffin and Erick Anderson brought him out all right, and I am not sure he has ever been sick since, tho' he worked for Uncle Sam for three years a little later. Before this left hand mill was completed it changed hands, and I think H. N. Williams finished it. Later Ed P. Kinney, of sad memory, owned and ran it. During the summer of 1860 there were many Indians all around here and it took so much game to keep them that late in the season it was difficult to get meat for our needs. I believe our first grain, wheat and oats, were raised in 1863, and this crop was threshed by Lafe Miller and Henry Church for which we paid them 25 cents per bushel. We sold some of these oats at home for 15 cts. per lb.

Early in the spring of 1864 brother George, in addition to a wife, brought a combined Mauny reaper and mower from Rockford, Illinois. This was the first machine in this valley. After doing our own cutting and for several neighbors we sold it before the season closed to George L. Beckwith and brothers. When we cut for others we charged $25 per day (it was a two-horse machine) for grain and $20 a day for grass. Our crop of this year was threshed by Geo. Zweck and Gilbert Toran and we mixed wheat and oats together and sold it for horse and mule feed in Denver for 7 cents a pound; corn we sold there for 6 cents a pound.

In the meantime the Indian War was on in earnest in this whole country and a lot of young men and some not so young, from this section and Boulder and vicinity formed Co. D, 3rd Colo. Cavalry with D. H. Nichols as captain and A. J. Pennock and L. A. Dickson as Lieutenants. This was a 100 day regiment but we served 130 days and were mustered out the last day of December 1864. It was a short campaign but an active one, and I guess we earned our wages.

While out we had a little scrap at Buffalo Springs, 150 miles down the Platte, on October 10th and on November 29th was pulled off the Battle of Sand Creek. But as I wrote an extended account of these affairs from my point of view some 28 years ago, I will now merely say that many persons have much to answer for all their lying and for all the slander heaped on the participants of this sand Creek affair. And I also regret to have it to say that all the exaggeration and all the lying in this matter is not to be charged to enemies of the said Sand Creek battle.

Friday, August 9, 1907

Of those yet living here and near here who served in Co. D there are Lieut. L. H. Dickson, Geo. L. Beckwith, Wm. H. Dickens and Columbus Weese; also L. A. White of Co. B., same regiment. There are also living at Berthoud Elijah Lovejoy and I. N. Gardner and at Boulder Granville Berkley, George Squires, Frank Montgomery, Wm. Elliott and H. B. Ludlow; also a few others in other parts of this state and in other states. But I must return and mention something I overlooked while running so fast.

Our party made its first visit to Denver July 29, 1859. Someone had a ferry across the Platte just below the mouth of Cherry Creek, but the river was now low enough for us to ford it. There was quite a sprinkling of little log shacks mostly made of cottonwood logs obtained nearly and tents, and many lived in wagons. There was plenty of selling and bartery going on. The most pretentious house was "Denver House" I think it was called, a sort of a hotel and gambling house. As I recall it this was part logs of a better quality than most of the houses and covered with canvas, though I may be mistaken in this. It stood on the north side of Blake street between Cherry Creek and present 15th street, near to and a little west of where the well-known elephant corral later flourished. To have foretold at that time the present magnificent city would, in my opinion, have taxed the aggregate wisdom and prescience of all the gods of both ancient and modern times; and the same would apply, only in modified form, to this entire country.

In November, 1861, I started for the old home in Illinois, going from Golden City with M. M. Seavy (now living in Denver) and six or eight other passengers to Omaha. From the latter town I walked nearly all the way to Marengo, Iowa, the western end of the railroad in that state.

June 22nd I started on the return to Colorado with three yoke of oxen, a horse and cow and one young man companion, W. W. Ogilvie of Canada. In Iowa we took in another man who assisted in driving the team. On this trip west I kept quite a lengthy daily diary of events and distance traveled.

I failed to note in its proper place that early in December, 1859, Jim made a trip to Denver with what little gold dust we had accumulated by sale of lumber, to get our winter supplies. As recalled now he got 260 pounds of flour, 100 of cornmeal, four papers of soda, four pounds of sugar and two bars of soap. Fortunately neither of us used tea nor coffee. I see by some of my old memoranda that a 100 pound sack of flour lasted us from 27 to 31 days, depending slightly on what else we had to eat. We must have had some salt and pepper already in store at this time.

In 1863, the Indian situation seemed to demand it and also an intimation from the governor that same was desirable, a militia company was formed at Burlington (our little burg) and called "The Evans Guard". The officers were Captain A. J. Pennock and lieutenants Alf. Cushman, L. H. Dickson, and Robert Woodward. In its makeup were many good men and it met regularly twice a month for drill. In the summer of 1864 the governor advised us to get ready and hold ourselves for instant service, which we did by rustling horses for those needing them and holding ourselves ready, as ordered, as did also Capt. Arkin's Co. at Boulder. But the crisis passed without our being called to active service. The large and beautiful silk flag presented to the guard by the ladies of the valley is now missing, as are also the records of the company which were, as I now recall, well kept by Geo. W. Coffin, as orderly sergeant. The "Guard" went dead on raising of Co. D 3rd Cav. as officers and many of the boys went into the new company.

On the 8th of July, 1865, I again started for my old Illinois home, going to Omaha with Francis M. Smith, well remembered in this section. We ran the gauntlet of Indians half the way to the river and traveled in large companies or took terrible chances, as we at times did, as the Platte valley was laid waste for some two or three hundred miles, ranches vacated and burned, with desolation on every hand. Nearly all the well known ranches we had been so familiar with only a few months before when they were teeming with life and activity, were now a mass of ruins. I have no data to guide or assist my memory now but just remember a few things. At American Ranch Mr. Morris, the proprietor, was killed and his wife and child taken captive. At a burned ranch some twenty miles this side of Julesburg we saw the iron remains of a large wagon train, which had been burned. In ruins of another ranch house we had the opportunity of shedding tears of joy over the remains of a warrior of the lamented "Lo" family. There were three wagons and four or five men in our immediate party, and sometimes we slid from the slower moving train and pushed on by ourselves, thus taking desperate chances, especially through sand hills and bluffs. This was a sad trip for all of us who had traveled the same route several times previous when conditions were very different. From Omaha I took boat to St. Jo, Missouri, and thence by rail to Chicago, my first visit to this city.

In December, 1865, I was married to Julia A. Dunbar at her home near DeKalb, Illinois, and May 11, 1866, we started west, by rail to St. Jo, and thence by boat to Omaha, where brother George had left our team of horses the fall before, and where we loaded our wagon with necessities for living. Prices at that time were something fearful. Bed ticking 95 cents per yard and cheapest prints 50 cents; fruits of all sorts in proportion, even as ordinary fruit as xante currants cost 50 cents a pound. It took considerable cash to buy even the most common necessaries for housekeeping.

Friday, August 16, 1907

The road up the Platte was still very unsafe and large trains was the common and only safe rule. At the junction near Fort Morgan, then occupied by the United States troops, we found brother George, who was there collecting taxes (as he was the Weld County Treasurer). With him was a neighbor, J. S. Plumb.

They traveled only a few miles with us and then pushed on during the night and we were alone on the road, as we had parted with other company at the Junction, while our road was still up the Platte. And for the next thirty-four hours was our scariest time, mainly on account of failure of the U. S. authorities and Indians coming to any satisfactory agreement at a meeting just held at fort Laramie. We knew this and everyone had been warned. The Indians, it was said, had departed from Laramie in a bad humor and were likely to wreak vengeance on any small party encountered. We drove hard and just one night and one and one-half days from the Junction were relieved at near sight of the Gerry home ranch near the mouth of Crow Creek.

Along here we saw many soldiers hovering around, who would timidly approach pilgrims and ask for rations. They were anxious to exchange uncle Sam's uniforms for citizen's clothes, and were deserters from Fort Morgan. Most if not all of them were galvanized rebels - that is, prisoners of war taken near its close, who had enlisted in the U.S. Army to come west to fight Indians. They were to be seen a little away from the road and half naked, afraid to show the Army blue. They were to be pitied surely, as they knew not whom to trust, and were mere boys, homesick as was possible to be. Most of them needed to be with their mothers. We were as good and kind to them as we dared to be, trading all the cheap clothes to be spared and buying some things as they were anxious for a little money. Guess the officers were not especially zealous in searching for the missing ones. Later some of them came up this way and worked for farmers in order to obtain money with which to get home.

Arrived at home ranch in exactly a month from the time we left Omaha, and Mrs. Coffin has never desired much camp life since. This ended my fifth and last trip across the plains with teams. Other trips have been made quicker and with less hard work, and possibly with less wear and tear on a fellow's religion.

Up to this time Mrs. Coffin thinks she has had her share of pioneering but she has stood it well and done her full share toward building up the home.

During the Indian excitement here in 1864 the settlers hereabout built the sod fort down below here two or three miles on the present Henry Church's farm - at that time it was Perry Smith's ranch. Guess the fort is all gone long ago. It was a safe retreat in case of necessity, as we later found, though not a solitary Indian was in that play. I refer to August '67 but will not detail it here. At the same time this fort was being constructed here our Co. D was building a better one, Fort Chambers, near Valmont. Believe the fort down here was never named unless it was called sometimes "Fort Smith".

But in August 20 to 22, 1868, there was one more scare, a real one too, when William Brush and companion were murdered by the Indians while at work at the Gerry ranch at mouth of Crow Creek. I learned the news just at eve as I unhitched my team from the mowing machine. I immediately mounted the best horse and started, though I had two men helping in the hay. At Godding ranch I met several others and we all pushed on for half the night before halting to rest or feed our horses. At daybreak we resumed our hard ride and before long saw a few mounted reds, but too far away and too fast gaited for us. About the middle of the forenoon we encountered the advanced party we were in search of and who had an hour or so before had a scrap with the "Lo" fellows, or rather had surprised them and sent them across the Platte in a hurry.

Among those exchanging shots with these Indians or sending lead after them as I remember now were Holland Scott, Wm. Clark (still living near Berthoud), Daniel Bailey, and the old Indian fighter, Haton Godfrey, the proprietor of "Fort Wicked" this side of the old American ranch. Of course there were others I do not now recall.

During the week we were out we did much hard riding, up Crow creek, down the Platte as far as the present town of Brush and southeast of the Platte in Lost creek country, but most of us never had a shot. Saw many Indians, mostly scouts or watchers, and fast movers. We became satisfied our every movement was being noted by the enemy, and once we think, we fooled them. We went into camp early, watered the horses, ate our lunch and as soon as dark came saddled up and pushed on for 15 or 20 miles, as we found their fires - remains of Fort Morgan, lately deserted. We thought we had them and word was passed along the line to make ready for business, but the game had flown and we found only the places where they had been.

Either by election or common consent Sam Ashcroft led the party all the time out, and he was a good efficient man. Men from this section kept coming to us and at one time there were nearly 100 men in the crowd, embracing most of the settlers in the whole section of country from here to the mouth of Cache-la-Poudre. As soon as news reached Denver and needs of the men were made known, the territorial authorities sent a load of all needed supplies, including tobacco for chewers and smokers. The boys thought two or three reds were killed the little fracas as some were unhorsed, but they were carried off by the live ones.

Spring of '68 on account of family changes Mrs. Coffin went to Illinois and in November I followed. We did not return to this country until April 1872, since which time we have remained loyal and patriotic citizens of our loved Colorado.

If the Ledger readers will pardon me for this long spun story I will not further inflict them until they have had a rest, or until the writer gets his second wind.